


Sorry

by SunflowerSupreme



Series: Modern Mayhem [4]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Comfort, Family, Gen, Hospital, Modern AU, house fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 05:00:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3516239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maedhros visits Maglor when he is in the hospital. Maglor remembers, and hears something he shouldn't have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sorry

**Author's Note:**

> Prequel of sorts to "Sudden Flames," but can be read alone.
> 
> Ages   
> \- Maedhros - 26  
> \- Maglor - 25

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. 

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. 

_Hiss. Click. Hiss. Click. Hiss. Click._

Maedhros clutched his little brother’s hand, and brushed wayward curls from his face. His nose and mouth were hidden by the oxygen mask, and his dark eyes – usually so vibrant and seeing everything – were closed. Thank goodness some had cleaned the soot and ash off, Maedhros doubted his ability to hold his emotions in check if he had still been stained by the fire. Beside him, on the dresser, was the photograph they ha found him clinging to.

“Stay with me,” he whispered. “Mom and dad will be here soon.” 

Feanor and Nerdanel had been several hours away, at an art show, when they received the call that their son’s house had burned down with the young minstrel inside it. They were rushing to the rescue, but had called Maedhros to sit with him. 

It was taking all of his self control not to pull his brother into his arms, to hold him, protect him. 

“I'm here.”

Xxxxxxxxx

Maglor was dreaming.

In his dream he was sprawled on his bed, towered over by a large man. The man was advancing toward him, that vile snake wrapped around his neck. “Oh but you won’t tell anyone little minstrel,” he whispered, running his finger down Maglor’s cheek in a cruel mockery of a caring gesture. “Or it will be your sweet little brothers next. And they won't make it out alive.”

Maglor twisted, trying to pull free of the ropes around his wrists. “I won't tell anyone!” he sobbed. “Just let me go.” He was disgusted by himself, for begging so much from such a man; no, a creature. But fright and pure terror would drive people to such lengths.

Glaurung sighed, shook his head as though scolding a child, and replied, “You'll get free. And make very certain those ropes burn in the fire.” He tapped Maglor’s nose, then left, taking that wretched reptile with him. 

Maglor twisted, feeling the ropes slip around his wrists. Thankfully they weren't terribly tight, and he managed to wrestle free of them. He ran to his bedroom door, opening the door an racing into the hall. 

Within a few steps he realized he had made a very poor decision, and probably should have jumped out his window. Smoke filled his lungs, and burned his eyes. Tears clouded his vision. 

He dropped to the floor and crawled, but soon gave up. Disoriented as he was by the flames and smoke, he was quite lost in his own home. He curled on the floor and moaned.

Something fell from the wall with a crash. He glanced sideways, seeing a family portrait sitting on the floor, glass frame shattered. 

Last Christmas. His brother’s smiling faces. Even Caranthir had managed more than the usual pains grimace. His parents were arm in arm, laughing. He reached out and pulled the frame closer, not noticing the glass shards as he pulled it close, reassured himself, took a deep breath, and crawled. 

He barely made it outside before the roof caved in. His neighbor grabbed him, shook him, spoke, but he couldn't hear her. All he could hear was Christmas music and laughter. He still saw the smiling faces of his family, and smelled his mother’s botched attempt at gingerbread. 

The neighbor tried to pull the picture from his hands, tried to make him listen, but he ignored her. He passed into the realm of unconsciousness long before the ambulance arrived.

Xxxxxxxx

He awoke to lungs filled with cold, sterile oxygen. When he tried to open his eyes, the bright lights cause him to close them again, trying to drift back off to sleep. Something red had caught his eye, however, in the moment they had been open. Maglor panicked.

 _Fire!_ He wanted to scream, but the oxygen mask blocked his mouth and muffled his noises. 

He began to thrash, fighting to escape his hell.

“Kano! Kano!” It took several moments for the voice to filter through to his sluggish mind. “Calm down, please. I'm here. You're safe.”

 _Russandol_ , he wanted to say. But the words wouldn’t – couldn’t – come. He stilled, letting his brother know he had been heard.

“Shhh. Just breathe. Focus on breathing.” His brother petted his hair, humming softly. “Just stay with me. Mum and dad will be here soon. Everything will be fine.” 

_No it won't. I'm not safe. You're not safe. And to keep you safe, I can't even tell you._

“I'm going to fetch a nurse. You stay awake, alright? I'll only be a moment.” Maedhros left, and when he returned, Maglor lifted his hand from the mattress. Maedhros took the hint and clasped it in his own. Maglor remained focused on that, the warmth of this brother’s hand and the thrum of his heartbeat, and ignored his nurse.

The nurse switched the oxygen mask for a tube that only ran below his nose, but he was encouraged not to speak, to ‘save his voice.’ 

When he finished, he stepped out into the hall with Maedhros. Maglor strained his ears, an heard what he was evidentially not meant to hear.

“There was smoke damage to his throat,” the nurse was saying. “He may sound different.”

“He is a singer,” Maedhros replied.

The nurse was silent for a moment, then said, “Then I am sorry.”

The rest of the conversation was lost on Maglor’s ears, and when Maedhros returned, speaking words of comfort, but evading the truth, he was silent. All he could hear, ringing through his ears, was one word; _Sorry, Sorry, Sorry._


End file.
